


Unsolicited Advice

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-02
Updated: 2010-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one in the alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsolicited Advice

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble. Uh, fail. >.> Prompt by akuchan_47 was: "Alley sex, audience optional." One in-joke from _Surrender, Dorothy_ , one from _PotC_ , and one character completely and clearly an insert of a lady that some of you might know (not myself, I promise).

McCoy knows the minute he sees the drink specials. He groans. "Jim, you sonofabitch, first day of leave in how long and you want to go to this sort of dive?" He sweeps the place with a look, and scoffs. "It's not even all that similar to The Marlin, 'cept the martini names." Because Filthy Dilettante is not a name you forget easily, and there it is in front of him.

But Jim's already roping a seat and a bartender, his laugh lines getting him drinks way before he should be, considering his place in the queue. Well, McCoy likes to think it's his laugh lines. Because thinking about his sometimes-bed-partner's fame tends to put his own laugh lines away. Fame either brings Jim death or women, and McCoy would not like to think about either at the moment, thank you very much.

So he drinks. Not some fluffy shit called the Wandering Minstrel like Jim is having, no, bourbon on the rocks. Somebody has to be predictable around here, and although Jim can always be counted on to be unpredictable, that's not quite the same thing. You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest, but Jim Kirk—

—is pulling a merely-nicely-buzzed Leonard McCoy out the door, a grin on lips. "I wasn't even done with my drink, you bastard," McCoy grouses. Leaving dead soldiers offends him on many levels.

"I didn't bring you here to drink," Jim says, his face relentlessly sunny as he leads on.

McCoy's eyebrow goes up.

Then they round a corner and Jim looks at him like it's Christmas morning. "I brought you here for this."

McCoy looks around. He has to admit, it's a surprisingly good facsimile of the alley behind The Marlin, the place he and Jim had been for their less glorious moments; they'd smoked cigarettes, smoked a joint or two, vomited spectacularly, emptied their bladders, groped women, groped men, groped each other once or twice… Not simultaneously, understand. But college is for bars and this bar was for colleges and alleys are for illicit activities, in the annals of history so let it be said.

"Yeah, okay. So where's the goods?" He eyes Kirk's pockets and normal stash-hiding-places, but instead Kirk's eyes get all glittery and he approaches McCoy. "Oh," McCoy says quietly.

And he can't help it, he reaches out before Jim is there. Second verse, same as the first, and they always end up meeting halfway no matter who leads.

This time it's Jim, though, grabbing at McCoy, and McCoy finds himself against a grimy wall getting the daylights kissed out of him. Jim's tongue and lips are hot and insistent and taste a lot like mint—obvious choice of drinks was obvious, now that McCoy considers it—

"The goods are right here," Jim says with a fake leer against McCoy's lips, but is unable to finish the line without breaking into grinning chuckles, which McCoy swallows up greedily. He pulls Kirk flush against him and the laugh descends into a groan as Kirk's hands jump on board, digging under McCoy's layers of shirt until he finds skin and belt and button.

McCoy breaks away with a grunt. "Apparently right there, too." Jim's hand closes around him with another smile and their gazes lock. "Fuck, Jim," Leonard says softly, his hand cupping Jim's neck, holding his jaw, tracing along his lips until one of them gets sucked in and McCoy's hips buck into Jim's firm grip. His eyes are stuck on Jim's mouth for a moment, then he feels Kirk's erection against him and reaches out to reciprocate.

Kirk waves him off, his hand continuing its leisurely but sure strokes. "No."

"And why the hell not?" McCoy shouldn't be so surprised; he of all people knows that Kirk is a guy who gets off on getting other people off. But still.

"Just shut up and let me act out an old fantasy," Jim says cajolingly but firmly. Then he kisses McCoy heavily, tongue thrusting in and out in a wet, muscley imitation of other things, and that and the sudden increase of pressure and speed has McCoy's balls tightening as Jim hurtles him towards the precipice.

Jim makes a pleased noise, then his mouth opens it into words, filthy words that flush McCoy's already blood-pumped skin— "Fuck, yes, give it to me—" And McCoy's body leaps ahead of him— "Skin and bones," Jim's murmuring into McCoy's neck— "My skin and…" His stubble brushes against McCoy's harshly once as he leans back. "Come for me, Bones."

The convulsions rock McCoy and his fingers clutch and unclutch at Jim, trying not to hold too tight but failing, failing miserably as always.

But Jim is there, as always, with a delighted look on his face and a sweet kiss on his lips as he rides it out with him, then wipes everyone clean and eases McCoy's cock and clothing back together. "Thank you," he says simply, grin unabating, and McCoy huffs a laugh and pulls him close.

"Isn't that my line?" But he doesn't let Jim answer, just gives in and kisses him, licking all his torn dreams into those lips and against that tongue.

A decidedly feminine voice exclaiming "Oh, Christ!" breaks the mood like a sledgehammer. McCoy freezes, coiled and ready to push Jim away, and hushed giggles confirm that he should.

But before he can, Jim easily catches his hands in a gentle-looking but firmly-locking grip and stays right where he is. He turns his head and nods politely at the gaggle of girls, and they go from blushing embarrassment to shocked recognition to outright ogling.

The famous laugh lines have brought the women, now, and McCoy kind of wishes death to be close behind.

No such luck, though. "Evening, ladies," Jim says easily, and McCoy feels Kirk's hip nudge gently against his, not enough for them to see but enough for him to feel. "As you can see, my partner and I are on shore leave and trying to get away from the hustle and the bustle."

McCoy's brain whirs desperately in his head and he tenses even more. He feels the hip nudge again, then Jim continues.

"If you ladies could be so kind as to keep this incident between us, we'd be much obliged."

There's nodding among the women, but there's one that's clearly more reasonable than the co-eds she seems to be den-mothering, with fierce glasses and twinkling eyes, who is not buying it. "That's kind of a jerk move, kid. I know you've saved the world eighteen times, and I thank you for that, but the doctor deserves better than cowardice where relationships are concerned."

Jim's face is fucking priceless, and McCoy enjoys it for a moment. "I—Holy Christ, woman, it's not like that!"

She crosses her arms in front of her. "What's it like, then, hmm?"

Jim glances sidelong at McCoy, and McCoy is surprised to see honest shame there. "Ma'am, I'd shout it to the world if I could, but—but the good doctor doesn't need his reputation besmirched by such an association."

The woman regards them lingeringly, and McCoy knows his cheeks are burning. He argues with his stomach for a moment, then decides what the hell. "Wouldn't besmirch me if you'd just make your bed then lie in it," he says quietly. "And only it."

Jim's head snaps toward him. He stares, lips slightly parted. Finally, his voice comes out truly rough and unsure. "You mean it?"

McCoy does his own hip-nudge. "Of course I mean it, you idiot. God help me, but I mean it."

Jim's smile goes supernova, and he's on McCoy in an instant. Hot, sweet kisses, grinning brightness from mouth to mouth, and McCoy's grip deletes any air between them.

A polite throat-clearing pulls him out of it just enough to break the kiss and flush grumpily. Jim opens his mouth but McCoy speaks first. "Ladies, while you are free to tell of seeing Captain Kirk and his partner—" The word is efficient, and McCoy decides he likes it. "—said partner would be much obliged if you would perhaps leave out the sordid details when reporting upon your evening. I wouldn't want the Captain's reputation besmirched, either."

Giggles from the girls, and the women in the glasses uncrosses her arms. "I think we can respect those terms, sir." She turns and begins to herd the group away, then looks over her shoulder and cocks a grin at Kirk and McCoy. "Now go get a room, boys, and annoy the piss out of your neighbors with the racket you kick up. That's an order. "

Jim grins and McCoy shakes his head, trying not to laugh. "Aye aye," Kirk sasses, and drops a salute. The woman nods, eyes twinkling once more, and departs.

Jim turns to him, his cheeks flushed and his gaze heavy but still uncertain. "That sounds like a brilliant idea to me, Bones." He kisses McCoy, nibbles at his bottom lip. "If you'll have me."

McCoy rumbles deep in his throat, then captures and commands the kiss. "Oh, I'll have you, Jim. Six ways to Sunday, in fact."

The laugh lines appear again, and McCoy savors them this time, knowing where they're from and what they've brought. "That's what I like to hear," Jim says cheekily.

Then he takes McCoy's hand, and tugs him out of the alley and into the night.

 _  
**FIN**   
_


End file.
